I Won't Tell
by Aunt Ardicca
Summary: I assume when you hear Freddy Krueger, you see a burned guy with a razor-fingered glove...when I hear Freddy Krueger, I see the tall, red-headed, evil-minded teenager I met when I was 16. My name is Loretta Krueger...and this is how I died...
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Anything from "A Nightmare on Elm Street." (Or Frankenstein). I guess accept the looks of Loretta I have based off myself. This is my first story, and I will continue if the people want it. If you think I should continue, please tell me. Well *deep breath*...here goes nothing.

I assume when you hear Freddy Krueger, you see a guy, horribly burned, red and green sweater, brown fedora, and let's not forget that razor-fingered glove. Well when I hear Freddy Krueger, I see the tall, red-headed, evil-minded teenager I met when I was 16. You know that game "marry, fuck, or kill?" Well Fred did all three to me. My name is Loretta Krueger…and this is how I died…

I wouldn't call myself a beautiful girl when I was 15; I was slightly overweight and was extremely short (5'2" to be exact). I was a loner…I may have had friends (more like just acquaintances), but I always felt alone. My style wasn't too bad; I usually wore black shirts with jeans…whatever was comfortable and affordable. I didn't look bad or anything; I just wore simple, 'okay' looking clothes.

To tell you the truth, I hated being 15. No friends, no love life, no one to talk to…just me, my drawings, and my books. My parents didn't care. When I turned nine, Mom took off and left me behind. Dad was a drunk and always cheated on Mom. That's most likely part of the reason why she left us. But now-a-days Dad wasn't all bad; he just didn't really acknowledge that I existed sometimes. It was kind of like an "Oh yeah, I have a kid" thing. He didn't drink (that much) anymore and he wasn't so aggressive and angry: Mom leaving hit him pretty hard.

I was to be 16 in a month. I sat in the local coffee shop, reading Frankenstein. What a twisted story…I was one for sick, twisted things. I may not have shown it, but I was. I put down the book and took a sip of my coffee. The fresh-ground, steaming smell of coffee filled the shop…the aroma filling my senses, inhaling it deep into my lungs.

I looked around the shop briefly, seeing who else was there; just me and some other guy. He looked about 18 to 20 years old…not too bad looking either. He had the most intense, deep red hair I had ever seen that stopped at his ears in smooth soft curls. I couldn't see his eyes since he was looking—no, staring…staring intensely—at the wall as if trying to obliterate it with his mind. He didn't blink until he brought the cup of coffee in his hands, to his mouth, sipped it, and then continued to glare at the wall.

Dark…mysterious…sexy…

I looked away before he could catch my eyes, but I think he knew I was studying him. I put down my coffee, picked up my book and tried to find my place. I looked up again to see if he was watching me…he was. He raised his eyebrows at me. Nervous on the inside, I looked out the window next to me and then back down at my book. I couldn't find my place but I at least pretended to.

After I finished my coffee with one final swig, I stood up with the help of the table and returned the mug to the lady at the counter and turned to leave. I didn't stop, but I did stare…he stared back. We eyed each other as I walked out the door into the chilly morning air.

After I snapped out of my swooning faze, I realized how cold it really was. 'Jesus,' I thought, pulling my black sweat-jacket closed over my front. It was foggy too. At least my feet were warm, snug in my black, knee-high boots.

Once I got home, I went straight up to my room. Dad wasn't home. I pushed open the door and shut it behind me. Even with no one home, I feel weird getting dressed with the door open. I took off my sweat-jacket and my shirt and grabbed one of Dad's oversized sweatshirts. He didn't care that I used them. After hugging my self, trying to warm up, I sat on my bed and unzipped my boots, leaving my socks on. I emptied the pockets of my jeans and dropped the coins from the change of my coffee in a jar. After discovering I had no clean sweatpants, I just crawled into bed with the sweatshirt. I rubbed my hands together under the covers and then rubbed my legs. 'I need to shave,' I thought as I felt the little hairs on my legs.

After a while, I felt my body warming up. I reached my hand out from under the covers and felt around for my book on my night stand…I felt nothing. I poked my head out of the covers and looked for it…not on my nightstand. Maybe it fell on the floor? I looked over the edge of my bed on the ground…not there either. "Oh…shit," I said aloud, groaning as I realized where it was. I had left it at the coffee shop, open, laying on the table. 'Oh I hope they still have it.' I'd go get it later…right now, I just needed some sleep...rather a nap. Thanks to the caffeine, I dosed off easily.


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, here's the next chapter! It's slow, but it WILL pick up! I just didn't want to jump into her meeting him yet. So here's her at school! Most of this is based off of my experience at school...yes, I have ADD. "Ms. Myers-Wilson" is a mix between my middle school art teacher and my art teacher from freshman year. Oh! And I don't own Grendel.

God, I hated school. I swear I had ADD or something. Or else school wouldn't be such a struggle and a bore for me. And…well, I was kind of attracted to shiny things. Like Katie's earrings for instance; they were just silver hoops, but they were coated in glitter…_shiny_…

I couldn't help looking over at her during English class. '_Shiny_…' I thought to myself. (Okay…I had ADD. I didn't need a doctor to tell me.) Well, looking at how beautifully the light shined off of glitter was more entertaining at 8:30 in the morning than reading Grendel. Don't get me wrong, Grendel was a (somewhat) interesting book (and maybe it wasn't _that_ early in the morning) but I was just totally out of it.

When lunch came around, debated whether do stay with the greasy food from the cafeteria or the go to the nice healthy sandwich shop across the street…tough decision…

Are you kidding me? You actually believed it was a tough decision? My god, you're slower than me when I finally figured out Freddy was killing the neighborhood kids! Anyway…I stood at the counter, waiting for my change. I looked around the place, seeing if anyone else from school was there…nope. No one from school, but I did see that one guy from the coffee shop near my house. 'Hmm,' I thought to myself, 'He must be new in town…' I'd never seen him in town before.

This time, he didn't catch my stare; he was staring at me first. I couldn't look away from him…he smiled at this. I couldn't tell if he thought it was funny or if he liked me. Most likely he thought I was stupid…I wouldn't have disagreed with him. It took the woman behind the counter twice to get my attention to give me my change.

"Do you want that for here or to-go?"

I looked back at the guy. "To-go…" I didn't want to stay and stare. Or to be stared at…at the moment all I wanted to do was eat. So I did…back at the cafeteria.

Have you ever noticed that the fun classes go by so much faster? Like art—my get-away—my freedom…my one class I actually focus on.

"Okay guys…um, I guess we're just going to do a free draw," Ms. Myers-Wilson called out. I flipped my sketch book to a new page and felt the rough, canvas-like paper. It was made for painting rather than drawing but it would do. So I started sketching a person. I never know who the people I sketch are, they're just random people I make up as I go. I'd be shocked if I ever saw someone who looked like one of the people in my sketches.

'Oh my god,' I thought as I looked at who I was sketching. 'It's him.'


	3. Chapter 3

The next Saturday, I headed to the café. I was going to ask if they had a lost and found, but as I walked in and headed to my usual table, I noticed something on it. 'Someone else must be sitting there,' I thought, 'otherwise there wouldn't be that Frankenstein book…hey wait, this is _my_ book!' I sat down and saw there was a rose in it…a beautiful, blood-red, long-stemmed rose. I looked over to where I saw the guy sitting last time. He was sitting there again today, smiling at me. A sort of…evil smile…

After I took off my coat and gloves, I looked away just to take out the rose and slowly bring it to my nose. It smelled wonderful. As I looked over at him again, I saw him get up and walk over towards me. My heart raced. I didn't even know who he was. He sat down across from me, still watching me. I felt like an idiot, mouth slightly a-gape.

I quickly smiled a little. "Thank you." It was quiet for a minute. I looked around, then at him a few times, waiting for him to say something.

"I like your taste," he elongated the word taste as he looked me up and down. I looked up at him, raising my eyebrows in a 'excuse me?' sort of way. "…in books," he added looking me in the eyes. I swear he was trying to seduce me…and it almost worked. I held back a laugh and just settled with a smirk and rolled my eyes.

He smiled along with me. "So uh," he paused for a split second, "can I get you some coffee…on me?" Did everything he say have to sound so…wrong? Or was it just my sick mind. I didn't even know this guy.

"So uh," I mocked him, "can I get your name?" I rested my head on my hand, propped up by my elbow. I crossed my legs, letting the skin of my thigh show between my skirt and boots. I _had_ shaved since the last time I was in the café.

He leaned back in his chair, looking at my leg. Then back up to my eyes. "Is my name important to you?" His smile was gone.

I didn't know what to say. Not really…but I did want to know who I was talking to. "Just curious. At least tell me how old you are."

"Is my age important to you?"

This I did have an answer for. "Well…I don't even know who you are—"

"Is who I am important to you?"

Jesus, he knew how to shut me up. But not completely. "Well, yeah. I don't want to be talking to some…" I paused, trying to think of something, "some 30 year old pedophile, or rapist, or killer, or something…" Little did I know, that's what he truly was.

He thought for a minute. Then nodded, as if agreeing with me. Then he turned to me. "Freddy. I'm 18." He held out his hand.

I just stared at it briefly. "Loretta. I'm 15." I gave my hand out for him to shake. Instead, he kissed it. It was a quick kiss, but he held his mouth over my hand, letting his warm breath trail over my wrist, and chills continuing the trail down my arm. I almost asked him for my hand back. It was just too awkward.

I felt a mix between cold sweat, chills, and a rush of heat. I think I might have been blushing. I didn't want to leave…but I wanted to get out…if you know what I mean. So I did…

"Oh…um…I, ah…I gotta go," I had taken my cell phone out of my pocket to check the time. I smiled sweetly, and started to get up.

"See ya around…" he looked a little disappointed, but c'mon, I didn't even know the guy!

This time, I didn't forget my book…


End file.
